


Sleeping Spindles

by quickdraw_kiddo



Category: Sleeping Beauty – All Media Types
Genre: Dark, F/F, Fairy Tales, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quickdraw_kiddo/pseuds/quickdraw_kiddo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleeping Beauty's thoughts while asleep, unsure of reality. A haunting voice begins to visit her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Spindles

My family thinks me dead. 

And, who knows, perhaps I am. If a gust of wind tenderly caresses my skin, I cannot feel it. The bed of leaves in my forest tomb offers no cushion, no comfort. I lie here, motionless, in the prison of my own skin, the spindle still lodged in my thumb. The throbbing of my blood around the invasive point is the only sensation in the void, keeping time, reminding me always how completely trapped I am.

Time has lost all meaning; seconds and minutes and hours, days and weeks, all fall like sand through my ever reaching fingers, trying desperately to grasp some sense of reality. I know no hunger or thirst, only emptiness. 

I will die here if Death has not already wed me, taking me into her loving arms to endless peace.

I beg an eyelash to bat or toe to wiggle, the smallest movements to let me know I still live, but my body remains obstinate and frozen, a glass coffin housing my mind. My cheeks, once so rosy, must surely look like carved marble.

...  
My memories are beginning to fade, and I wonder how I ended up in this death-like sleep. The last recollection of my previous life is only of a sharp pain and then.... I do not know what maleficent force rose out of Hell and sought me out, but I pray no others have suffered fates like mine. Surely good exists in the world to destroy this creature.

…

 

- _Dornröschen…Dornröschen, mein Liebe, can you hear me? Mein Liebe…_  
A voice invades the peaceful silence. I have heard neither bird nor beast for an eternity. How does this voice resonate in my head? My love, it called me. Love…I have forgotten what it means to love.

\- _Dornröschen? Please answer me…_  
“Who are you?” I think, my thoughts projecting in the blackness  
- _I will find you very soon, my love. Do not be afraid._  
“How will you find me? Who are you? What is happening to me?”  
- _Patience, child. My name is not important, for you will know me as I know you. I have been there since you burst forth into the world, and I will be here when your spark fades from it. You have been asleep for many years, as well as most of the kingdom. Dornröschen, very soon I shall rescue you. You will feel my embrace and the velvet touch of my lips, and then you will have peace._  
A rescuer. A prince, perhaps? What interest would a prince have in the corpse of a dead princess? A corpse cannot nurse a child, cannot cradle it when it cries out in the middle of the night. A corpse cannot love; it can only lay cold, more frigid than an unwilling wife.  
…  
My ghostly liberator never invades my thoughts anymore. The voice, so strange, took the characteristics of neither male nor female and cut the inky blackness of my mind like a blade. If the ghost was a prince, then the prince has lost interest, probably coming across my frozen body while hunting in the woods. I imagine my noble would-be rescuer mounted on a mighty horse, diligently tracking a doe in the maze of trees and underbrush, until finally seeing my sleeping form on a bed of leaves and roses, the thorns piercing my pale skin like so many spindles. After approaching and seeing no blush on my cheeks, no rosy color in my lips, he would realize his mistake and leave (in respect for the dead, of course), for he would not want to anger the King and Queen for defiling the grave of their only heir.  
…  
- _My love…_  
Yes, my love, my haunting voice in the silence.  
“Have you finally come to rescue me?”  
- _Yes, Dornröschen, I am here. Don’t fear, for soon your toils will be relieved._  
And suddenly, my eyes, once heavy, spring open and are blinded by a beautiful light. My senses are overwhelmed, and I begin to weep. I barely recognize the chirping of birds and the bubbling of a nearby stream. My breath explodes out of my chest, and I breathe back in, savoring the taste and feel of life like a last meal. Yet, my lonely angel remains bathed in the blinding light.  
“Why can’t I see you?”  
- _You will see me soon. Come, let me hold you._  
So I walk forward blindly to meet my rescuer. Arms surround me, colder than ice, and the light begins to fade. The world turns grey. Leaves, once so red, turn ashen and stale. Finally, my sight clears, and I see my rescuer before me, not a prince but a sadly beautiful Grey Lady, with long white hair and billowing white clothes of the softest silk. I lay my head in the crook of her neck. She tilts up my chin, looking into my eyes.  
- _It is time._  
And with that, she cranes her neck and lowers her lips to mine, and Death takes me, making me Her bride as She has done throughout time. She takes my hand, leading me beyond the horizon. I glance back only once to see my lifeless body, still beautiful and asleep.

No prince is coming to rescue me, for who would ever rescue the dead?


End file.
